


Second Chance at Jail Time

by Escalus



Series: Scott McCall's Shades-of-Gray Theater [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crimes & Criminals, Episode: s01e02 Second Chance At First Line, Gen, Law Enforcement, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 02:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12401076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escalus/pseuds/Escalus
Summary: The Shades-of-Gray Theater Company presents a new spin on the second episode of the first season.   What if Stiles is always right from the get go, and Scott doesn't care as much about right and wrong.





	Second Chance at Jail Time

The Narrator comes out dressed a little differently this time. He still parades across the stage, but now he is draped in a black robe and a powdered wig like some old-fashioned British judge. It’s completely inappropriate.

“We all know there is a difference between moral and legal decisions. When the law is followed, there are only two truly real verdicts – guilty or not guilty. You have either broken the law or you haven’t. Circumstances can influence whether charges are pursued, and it can influence what punishment you receive, but in the end, the law is black and white.”

“Which is why our story skirted the law for most of the first season, because when you get it involved, all sorts of compromises must be made. This had to happen for the story to progress, but it also robbed the law of one of its strongest benefits: the protection of the powerless from the powerful.” 

“Here is a possible alternative scenario for ‘Second Chance at First Line.’”

###### 

Sitting in his room, lit only by the light of the computer screen, Scott finally got his breathing under control. If he had still been human, he’d have been curled up in the corner wheezing through an asthma attack by now. His hand shook a little as he thought about what Stiles had just suggested over the video.

“Dude,” cajoled Stiles, staring intently through the screen. “Do you forget what he just did? That was some Jason-Voorhees-level slasher shit he just pulled on you! What if next time he decides to actually kill you?”

“I don’t know,” Scott answered back honestly. He jumped up and looked fearfully out the window; he couldn’t see Derek anywhere. He rushed downstairs to make sure he wasn’t in the house. He couldn’t hear him. Maybe he was actually gone.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to need to do it now,” Stiles explained urgently. “The longer we wait the less effective it’ll be.”

Scott bit his lip as Stiles grew antsier on the other side of the computer screen; he didn’t feel any more comfortable. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to control this, and he has to know how to do it. You’ve seen him”

“Yeah, but what’s the price of his help going to be?” Stiles argued. “Look. He bit you. He stalked you. He lured you out into the woods. He threatened Allison. He just threatened to kill you five minutes ago. This can stop him. We can figure out together how you can control yourself; we don’t need him.”

”Are you sure?” Scott almost whispered the words. He felt that if he said them any louder, he might scream instead.

“Have I ever led you wrong before?” Stiles rolled his eyes, mostly at himself. “Other then my brilliant idea about looking for a body. Look, I don’t know what’s up with him, but people who want to help you don’t act like he’s acting. But it’s your choice, dude.”

Scott looked once more around the room. He didn’t feel safe here, not anymore. He didn’t know how Derek had gotten in or if Derek was serious about killing him if he played in the game on Saturday, but he could feel the fear crawling under his skin. 

Scott swallowed. “Do it.”

###### 

Noah Stilinski made it a point of pride to correctly evaluate the mindset of someone in custody within the first ten seconds of meeting them in the interrogation room. Part of his surety came from preparation. He would always read the arrest report before he went in to talk to the suspect; you could understand a lot of how people would act if you knew the _details_ of what they did. It was a talent that he believed all law enforcement needed to have. 

In this particular case, he had almost too much information before entering the interrogation room; he made an effort to suspend judgement. He had examined all the evidence, and he had questioned both Scott and Stiles, who had been both informative and frustrating. He had no reason to believe that they were lying; there was no evidence that contradicted them. But both of the boys had seemed more upset than they should be; they were concealing something. Something else was going on here, and it was only confirmed when he walked into the room and met Derek Hale. He could sense that beyond the glum glower and the neo-tough-guy outfit, the young man was terrified. 

That didn’t matter one bit.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t know Derek Hale. He had been Sheriff when the fire had ravaged Derek’s family home, killing eleven of his family members, leaving Derek as an orphan with an older sister and a burnt, comatose uncle. He remembered talking to a near-ruined child after the fire, and he knew that such devastation never truly left a person. Six years was nowhere near enough time to cope. 

Again, that didn’t matter one bit.

He had more than enough evidence to put Derek Hale away for a long time. He had more than enough quality evidence that any prosecutor in California would be salivating about putting this one in the win column. That’s not what this interrogation was about. 

“Well, if you wanted to come to my department’s attention, Mr. Hale, there are easier ways to do that. You were read your rights, weren’t you?”

Derek nodded, his jaw locking in an attempt to keep himself under control. 

“So,” drawled Noah. “You want to give me a reason for all of this?” In the sheriff’s experience, people who weren’t habitual criminals, like he imagined Derek was not, loved a chance to get everything off their chests.

“I’m not sure what ‘all this’ is,” Derek spoke back. He hadn’t asked for a lawyer. 

“You’ve been charged with breaking and entering, assault and battery, endangering a minor, and criminal threats.” The sheriff responded casually. “Specifically, we know that you broke into the McCall house, attacked a sixteen-year-old, threw him up against the wall, and threatened to kill him if he played in a lacrosse game.”

“Is that what he told you?” Derek suddenly seemed tired by this. 

“No. That’s what a digital recording of you actually doing that told me,” Noah replied sarcastically. “You may not be familiar with how video chat programs work; I really don’t understand it myself. My son, who was on the other end of that chat, recorded the video which shows you inside the McCall residence without an invitation, and it shows you attacking and threatening the boy. I’ve seen the video as have most of my deputies and a copy of it has been sent to the county prosecutor.” 

Derek’s jaw dropped a few millimeters.

“It wasn’t particularly smart of you, son, to pull that stunt with my son as a witness. Stiles and Scott have given statements that say you weren’t invited in and that you’ve been stalking and harassing Scott for the last few days. This sit-down,” Noah gestured between them, “is the chance for you to tell me why.”

“What does it matter?” The man was surly by reflex. Noah knew a defensive tactic when he saw it. Some people believed that if you acted as if nothing ever bothered you, nothing ever would. He had to break the kid out of this before things got bad. 

“It matters because why you did it could be the difference between being charged with felonies and being charged with misdemeanors. That matters because that’s the difference between four years in jail and ten years in jail.” The sheriff was trying to be reasonable. “Telling me why gives me a little wiggle room here.”

Derek’s face twisted itself up into knots. There is obviously a reason for what he did, but, for some reason, he didn’t want to tell the sheriff what it is. Noah thought about the scared teen who came home from school to find his family dead.

“Let me help. Why do you not want Scott to play in the lacrosse game on Saturday?”

Derek frowned as he obviously searched for words. “It would be dangerous.” It is all he could grit out. 

“For him? For you?” The sheriff pointed at Derek. “I need a little more than that.” 

“It would be dangerous for Scott and everything around him. I can’t … I can’t tell you why, but I know that it would be. I was trying to help him.”

“By scaring him half to death?” There was no answer coming. “If it was dangerous, why didn’t you come to me? Or to Scott’s mother?” 

“This is between Scott and me.” Derek sounded like he had lost hope. “No one else could understand.”

“That’s not how the world works, Derek. Even if Scott was an adult, which he isn’t, you can’t go around threatening to kill people, even for their own good. That’s why I’m here.” He pointed to the badge on his chest. “That’s why I wear this.” 

Derek refused to talk. He just crossed his arms and retreated into apathy. It was a pose, Noah knew from years of work; traumatized people sometimes believed that if you acted as if nothing mattered to you, nothing would.

The sheriff sighed. “Felonies it is.”

###### 

Scott and Stiles didn’t see Derek again until a few days later. Scott was a mess; while he had managed to control himself thanks to Allison’s presence at the game, he still had no idea if he had actually attacked Mr. Garrison. Stiles had some theories about how to keep him under control, but they hadn’t come up with anything solid yet. They had lingered after lacrosse practice to talk about more things they could try.

When they turned around, Derek Hale was standing before them, and he did not look particularly happy.

“How?” Scott stuttered. He didn’t show it but fear raced through his veins. His claws came out and he stepped forward to be between Stiles and Derek.

“It’s called bail,” Derek answered. 

“And one of the things about being released on bail,” Stiles piped up, “is that the bail-ee doesn’t get to harass the people pressing charges.” He grabbed his phone and took a picture. “Now get out of here before I send this to my dad.”

Derek gritted his teeth. “I’m just here to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you!” Scott exclaimed. “You did this to me! You turned me into this monster! I hurt that man; he could die!”

“I’m not the one bit you!” Derek replied. “It wasn’t me out in the woods that night.”

“Now, usually, I don’t like to use up all my sarcasm in the first thirty seconds of an argument,” Stiles observed from his position of relative safely. He smacked his lips in derision. “But shouldn’t you have like, lead off with that?”

“What do you mean?” Scott demanded. His pulse was still inching up there, but now it was being fueled by anger as well as fear. 

“I can’t turn people into werewolves. I’m only a beta.” Derek tried to sound reasonable. “It takes an alpha to turn someone with a bite.” He went on to tell the story of his sister’s return to Beacon Hills and her murder. “I came here to find out who killed her.”

“Dude, so it’s possible that you weren’t the one that hurt Mr. Garrison,” Stiles put a hand on Scott’s shoulder to reassure him.

Scott hoped that he wasn’t. He really hoped that there was another explanation. 

“An alpha has a connection to the betas that they make,” Derek explained. “He could have called you to him without you knowing it. There’s so much I can teach you about what we are. How to control the shift. How to use your senses. But I can’t do that in jail.” 

Scott could give Derek the benefit of the doubt. He could recant or get his mom to refuse to press charges. Then Derek could help him with all this werewolf nonsense before he hurt anyone. But then he remembered how it felt to be thrown up against a tree and a wall. He remembered the terror as Derek whispered death into his ear.

“I think Stiles has that pretty much covered,” Scott answered. He could feel Stiles beaming behind him.

Derek’s eyebrows clashed in anger. “So you think your little friend can Google everything you need to know about being a werewolf?”

“Little?” Stiles flinched. 

“No. I think I can trust him,” Scott replied. His hands clenched. “I can’t trust you.”

“Little!” Stiles was mortally offended.

“Look …” Derek began.

“No, _you look_. Don’t pretend you want to help me now. I may be a little slow, but I’m not stupid. You’re only interested in me because I’m the only way you find this … this alpha that killed your sister. I’m the only lead you’ve got. If you were really interested in helping me, you would have told me this shit in the first place. You wouldn’t have tried to frighten me into doing what you want. You wouldn’t have kept stuff from me just so you could dole it out to keep me in line.”

“Yes, I’m here to find out who killed my sister,” Derek argued, “but you still need me.”

“I might have cared about your stupid sister if you had treated me like a human being rather than a means to an end,” Scott replied nastily. Anger had completely replaced fear by this point. His life had been destroyed and this asshole was still trying to use him. “And I’ve got other options. I could ask my very human friend Stiles here to go talk to Mr. Argent …”

“You’d trust him! He shot you.”

“He shot me because some asshole lured me out in the woods with my date’s jacket!” Scott shouted back. “I don’t have to risk anything at all. Everyone knows Stiles got you arrested. My friend could give him all the information he has on a certain criminal in return for some help.” 

“I could definitely do that,” grumbled Stiles, “especially considering how _little_ I am. Oh, Mr. Argent, he scared me soooooo much.”

Derek took a step back as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Or, I could wait for this alpha to come find me. I’m sure they could tell me all about what it means to be a werewolf. After all, I’m their beta, aren’t I?” Scott sneered. “I don’t need you. I’ve got other options. The option you have right now is to get out of here before Stiles calls his dad.”

“Yeah!” Stiles chorused. 

Derek did retreat. They watched him leave, but Scott and Stiles waited in the abandoned locker room until they were sure he was completely gone.

“Did we do the right thing? I mean, if he’s telling the truth, he’s just trying to get justice for his sister.” Stiles asked.

“That’s what he said. We don’t know if what he says is true. We don’t know anything.” Scott replied. “I meant what I said; you may not have all the answers yet, but I trust you and I trust your dad more than him. I’m only afraid of him telling someone.”

“He won’t tell anyone,” Stiles stated with assurance. “He was so scared of you outing him that he resorted to death threats. You’ve got nothing to fear about that, and I’m always right.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are. Let’s get out of here.”

###### 

The Narrator snatches off his judge’s wig. 

“Not a particularly happy ending, wouldn’t you think? Scott put his own safety and comfort above justice for Laura Hale and freedom for Derek Hale. But isn’t that what you do when you live in Shades of Gray? Secure the safety and happiness of yourself and those you love before black and white principles of truth and justice?”

“And, honestly, why wouldn’t Scott benefit more from working with Peter in return for help with controlling himself and learning how to be a werewolf? He could even have made a deal to protect Allison, if protecting your loved ones is more important than doing the right thing.”

“But at least Derek might be safe in prison. Maybe. Hopefully.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been researched, but I'm not a lawyer or a police officer.


End file.
